Yesterday my wife Trash asked me why it takes me longer to write a Six Feet Under recap than a 24 recap. I explained that not only does SFU have no commercials, it has all these symbols and layers and shit. Also, I still need to reprogram my function keys so that instead of using a single keystroke to type words like "gun," "cell phone," "split screen," and "torture," I can use the same keystrokes to type words like "corpse," "fade to white," "shut up," and "torture." I think these will go faster once I get that done. But on the upside, there's that expanded theme song, which is like a little bit of Christmas morning every Monday night.
Not so much baiting and switching with the Corpse of the Week this episode, because when we join the "action" in a 1950s kitchen, there are only two people there. One is a young, blond boy of maybe ten who's asking why he can't go to school with an impressively Cromwellian delivery for one so young. And the other is the woman we recognize as the Apocalypse Fairy from George's paranoid fantasies. She's wearing a blue cardigan over a blue flowered housedress with a skirt that goes out to about here on the sides. No wonder she's depressed. In answer to the boy's question, she says that she wants him at home with her. He says he likes school, and she says that she did too, although nobody ever remembers that she went to college and everything. And then she adds, "But they don't teach you what you really need to know. Like why do men fly the coop?" And they apparently didn't teach her why she shouldn't have vodka and pills for breakfast, either, because that's what she's doing right now.
Little George draws Mom's attention to the sizzling mess that she just dumped into the skillet a few seconds ago, and she dumps the whole contents, grease puddle and all, onto a plate with a couple of slices of bread, which she puts on the kitchen table in front of Little George. "It's your favorite," she says. "Fried bologna and Velveeta. Eat it." No wonder he grew up to mistrust preservatives. Instead of eating, Little George starts stashing it in his pockets. Fortunately for him, Mom's too absorbed in booze, pills, and self-pity to notice. He asks her about the medicine she's taking. "Mommy hurts," she explains as she downs another dose. Little George asks what'll happen if she falls down again. She says she'll "take a nap right here." And then she tells Little George to hold her hand. They're not wasting any time getting the episode titles into the dialogue this season, are they? Little George asks, "What if I have to go to the bathroom?" "Then go to the bathroom, get back here, and hold my hand," says Mom. "God, sometimes you're so stupid." George apologizes. Mom says seriously, "Listen, I'm very tired. So don't let anybody wake me up. I mean it." She squeezes his hand hard enough to hurt, and then kisses it. "I love you so much," she says. "Do you love me?" Little George nods. "You're my life, Georgie. Remember that." "I will," Little George says sadly, and Mom lays her head down on the table. I think they're trying to make it ambiguous as to whether Mom actually means to commit suicide right here in front of her kid, but it seems to me as if the answer is affirmative. Which is just shitty, because any self-respecting suicidal housewife does it after the kid goes to school so he can come home and find her that way. You suppose she ever wrote a note? "Goodbye, cruel world. The promise of my youth and beauty has been wrenched from me, and I haven't the strength to go on. Also, please excuse George for his absence from class yesterday, as I needed him at home to run interference with the paramedics." Whatever the case, Mom has put the final strokes on her caricature of Julianne Moore's character in The Hours, and nobody is surprised when the screen goes white to tell us that Loretta Smith Sibley (1908-1953) is going to be taking a very long nap indeed. I hope she doesn't have to wait around for Fisher & Diaz to handle her funeral, because there won't be much left to bury by then.
Fifty-one years later, George -- who is no longer little, but who is still so stupid sometimes -- comes down the stairs in his bathrobe and pajamas and tries to enter the chapel. And here we learn why the funeral directors stand in the back during the service: to foil would-be gatecrashers like their addled stepfather. George wants to join the mourners in their time of loss. Nate says that the funeral's a private one, and George says he'll sit in the back. But Nate blocks him, saying he'll be welcome at the funeral that afternoon. Heads turn in the congregation as Nate gently leads George back up the stairs. David signals the clergyman to continue, probably thinking that George will probably figure out some way to disrupt his own funeral when the time comes.
Impotence, depression, and creative blockage: Billy's anti-drug. He clearly hasn't resumed his dosage, and his medlessness is already taking hold. He's lounging around on the bed with Claire, even more unshaven and Einstein-haired than usual, and accessorizing his new look with a wifebeater and a pair of black boxer briefs. For some odd reason, not only can Claire not tell that he's going crazy again just by looking at him, but she's eating up his energetically-delivered tales of party-squatting on a cruiser off Mykonos. They kiss, because she can't resist a man who's mentally unstable. He tells her, "I'm a new man with you. You've changed everything." Claire's too flattered to wonder if the real agent of change in his life is she or the lack of anti-psychotics in his system. He says, "Let's stay in bed all day, talking and fucking." Great, because what this show needs is more fucking talking. They snuggle for a minute, and then Billy's off again, suggesting that they spend a few years in Europe. "They despise Americans, I don't need that," Claire laughs. But Billy says it would be good for her art. "You would really ripen over there," he promises, and suggests moving to Spain. "Where in Spain?" Claire asks, as if she could find Madrid on a map. Of Madrid. He starts saying the names of Spanish towns all goofy-sexy like he's in A Fish Called Wanda or something. What's even goofier is the fact that it's working.
David and Keith are at their kitchen table with a stack of adoption-related paperwork that they're going through in David's uptight, highly organized, detail-oriented way. There's another term for that, but I don't want to seem homophobic. David exposits that their appointment with the adoption agency is the day: "If we're not on top of our paperwork, Shirley will kick our gay daddy asses into the street." To his credit, he's just as organized with the surrogate paperwork, and he reminds Keith that that appointment is the day after tomorrow. Good, we can fit them both in the same episode. They ask each other if they're sure that their respective records are covered: David asks about Keith's anger-management paperwork: "You pounded some guy into a bloody pulp," says the man who once had someone's ear in his stool. "They have to have a paper that says you won't do that again." Keith assures David that it's done, and then asks about the record of David's assault on the Pasqueasel. David says it's ridiculous to call it an assault, and I'm thinking that this is kind of a violent pair of men. David asks if Keith got the Pasqueasel's affidavit that he dropped the charges. "Oh, shit," Keith says. David orders Keith to call the Pasqueasel so that he can scan it and make copies. "You are such a mom," Keith says, already dialing his cell phone. David smiles. "You are," Keith repeats. It's so cute how well they get along at the beginning of episodes, isn't it?
George, Ruth, and Nate sit in the Fisher kitchen, where it's currently as quiet as a funeral home. I can't believe this is my fourth recap of this show and that's the first time I've ever used that joke. George reads the paper. Ruth knits an ugly scarf. Nate sips his coffee. When all the awkwardness becomes too much, Nate announces that he's off to run some errands: "Anybody need anything?" Ruth says she has to go to the market anyway, and George offers to take care of it, as does Nate. Ruth says it's just little stuff she has in her head, and the men suggest she make a list. "I'm looking forward to the produce section," Ruth says Ruthly, and George announces that he's going. Nate gives him a look and gets up too, saying he's got things to do in that direction, so he can go with. As George heads upstairs to get dressed, Ruth sighs that she'll make the list. Nate's alarmed that Ruth is going to let George go alone. Ruth says that George'll be fine: "It's one of his good days." Nate disagrees, and cites George's attempted funeral attire from earlier as evidence. Nate says he just wants George to be safe. Instead of answering, Ruth goes back to her list and hopes Nate won't realize that she's thinking there are worse things than George getting behind the wheel mistaking the Pacific Ocean for the 101.
Wondering how Brenda's internship is going? Too bad, you're going to find out anyway. Brenda's having an appointment with one of the troubled college students on the campus, who doesn't think Brenda's ready for her. Brenda encourages her to go on anyway. "I'm a very complex person," lies the generic blonde sitting opposite Brenda, and tries to spook her with tales about her various hospital visits. Brenda looks unimpressed until the patient's hand comes away from her head with a ragged lock tangled in her fingers. "And I keep pulling my hair out," she adds. She finally breaks down about the pressure to be normal, and says that nobody understands. "I think I do," says Brenda. Funny, I care about both of these people equally.
Her work done, Brenda and her boss Jackie are walking across the quad for some al fresco lunch while Brenda expresses her amazement that every young woman who's come to see her has body image issues. They swap stories about their anorexic patients, and Brenda asks, "Do their families not notice that their daughters are emaciated?" Coming from these two, who combined probably weigh less than I do, that's kind of rich. Jackie admits that she used to be "a fat girl." Brenda's shocked to hear that Jackie used to weigh 204 pounds. Huh, I'd like to get down to that. "Why do you think I have so much compassion?" Jackie says. Brenda gets her to confess that she took off the weight by using speed. "You're a fine example," Brenda says. "Hey, it's fucking hard to be a fat girl," Jackie protests. Interesting conversation, given that they're walking and eating at the same time. I also would have liked to see some kind of transition between Jackie's hating Brenda for her very existence and becoming her best bud. But for that we would have had to see at least one scene of Brenda being pleasant to be around, and that's just too much of a strain on our credulity.
As if that's not enough talk about thinness, George is happily shopping for produce, and he notices that the apples are from Chile. See, even Chile is skinny. He comments to a young mother standing nearby with her baby in a Snugli® about the variety of fruit, and what a beautiful day it is. "I thought you've been feeling a little off lately," comes the response, and when George looks up again, the young mother has been replaced by his own. She's a lot less blowsy than she was when last we saw her, but it's her. She says to George, "Maybe it's because fifty-one years ago today you let me die." George raises his hands to his head in horror and drops his apples. The young mother asks if he's okay. George just keeps saying no and leaves her standing there among his rolling fruit.
The Pasqueasel is holding court in his living room when Keith and David enter. The Pasqueasel introduces his two pretty-boy friends, Hal and Critter. Yes, he said "Critter." "We're being bad," the Pasqueasel mock-confesses, and indeed the three of them are drinking frozen daiquiris out of martini glasses. I think the proper way to serve those is in glasses you brought home from a cruise. The Pasqueasel offers the would-be dads a drink, and they exchange a glance before David politely declines, citing "the meeting tomorrow." The Pasqueasel tells his boy-toys that Keith and David are going to be fathers, and they whoop their congratulations. David says he just wanted to have a copy of the Pasqueasel's letter, and the Pasqueasel hops up to get it. "Signed, witnessed, notarized, cauterized, circumcised..." he babbles on his way out of the room. He's more entertaining with a few daiquiris in him, but then, who isn't? Keith makes small talk with the himbos until finally the Pasqueasel comes back with a manila envelope. "Hal is gonna be huge," he announces. Ah, so they're still in that stage of the relationship. David accepts the envelope and begins inspecting the contents. The Pasqueasel's kind of hurt: "David, it's been months. I've been well-behaved, I employ your husband, I think I've proved I'm not Satan." David agrees, "Pretty much." The Pasqueasel raises his glass: "Here's to children. May they be wanted and loved just as they are. Anything less is hell, as we all know." And bottoms up. Which is not as dirty as it could be in a room with five gay men in it. Too bad it's the last season so we can't watch David and Keith father and try to love a redneck homophobe just as he is.
Rico's looking for a date? Must be a day that ends in Y. But we can tell what day it actually is by the sign outside a church meeting room that reads "Common Purpose Catholic Singles Party Tues. 6-8 PM." It looks dull, but things get pretty wild around 7:52, I've heard. Rico stands by the buffet table, looking around unhappily. Until he spots a hot little brunette number with her back to him in a turquoise dress. He approaches, smiling, and his grin widens when Vanessa turns around to face him, looking mildly busted. They sort of laugh at each other. "Doesn't this remind you of a movie?" Rico tries. "Two divorced people meet at singles night and they, uh--" "No," Vanessa says flatly. Rico asks about some hockey player he thought she was hooked up with, and she says that's just sex. Rico gets all pearl-clutchy, and Vanessa says it's no big deal, which gives Rico an opening to say, "I just think you're better than that." For some reason, she's flattered by this judgmental crap, so she invites him over to see the Federiquitos the day. He has to decline: he's going to a funeral director's conference in Irvine. "Yeah, woo. Really good time," he says sarcastically, as if that isn't exactly the kind of thing he looks forward to all year. Vanessa laughs and tells him to mingle, and then spots a guy across the room and goes over to introduce herself. Rico stands there all grumpy about how much easier this is for Vanessa. That's the danger of marrying someone hotter; it's way easier for them to get dates after they dump you for cheating with a stripper.
Ah, they're getting a little more subtle with the televisual clues this week. For instance, Maya's parked in front of a Blue's Clues video. Why? Because Brenda's going to be blue later and Nate won't have a clue why. But I could just be blowing smoke, because that's nearly always the case. Nate comes home after a hard day of planting people. Brenda offers him dinner and he declines, saying "I had a GardenBurger in the car." A GardenBurger in the car? I don't know if it's more likely that he picked it up at a drive-thru or found it under the seat in pristine condition. ["It's California -- they're actually pretty easy to find at fast-food places there. I would have gone for a Jamba Juice, myself." -- Wing Chun] Nate in turn notices the salad that Brenda's munching on, and asks if she should be eating it: "That lettuce is gray," he elaborates, but she doesn't care. "Is there anything internal I should know about?" he asks on his way to the shower. Brenda has no idea what he means. "Egg-wise?" he elaborates. Brenda says no, but thanks him for asking. Nate tells her that Ruth wants them over for dinner the night. Brenda whines that they were just there last week. Nate says that George likes hanging with Maya, and Ruth could use the relief. "It's excruciating," Brenda says, so Nate says Brenda doesn't have to come if she doesn't want to. Does that go for all of us?
Claire is lying in bed with her eyes closed, but she's not sleeping. Who could sleep with Billy yammering away in the background like he is? He's going on and on about where in Europe they're going to go, pacing around with a towel around his waist, and it's not a few seconds until we see he's on the phone. So he's not completely losing it. Yet. Fade to white.
Rico's at his conference, listening to a dull lecture about waterless embalming and looking bored to tears. Who is this man and what has he done with Rico? He glances around at all the male, dark-suited extras until his attention is aroused by a very long-legged woman in an acid-green suit, straightening her pantyhose a few seats to his right. She looks up and catches him staring, and we see it's his replacement from back when he left Fisher & Sons in Season 1, Illeana Douglas. Rico looks forward again, then glances back to see that she's smiling at him as she pulls her skirt back into place. Something tells me she's not too offended.
Out in the lobby, Illeana approaches him as he's standing to an open coffin. They read each other's name tags and quickly establish their shared connection to those fucked-up Fishers. Illeana: "I remember your work from the board. You rock! And I'm pretty good myself so I should know." Rico thanks her, smiling up at her like the little elf he is. Illeana says that the Fishers fired her for breaking a glass. "They acted like I murdered somebody. Fucked a body or something." They way she used to talk, I think they probably figured that that last one was just a matter of time. In any case, she doesn't want to offend Rico because she thinks he's awesome. Takes all kinds, I guess. She asks if he's going to some other lecture, and he says he is. She's happy to hear it, since it means they can sit together and she can be his groupie. Rico cackles. "I mean, your wife won't mind, will she?" Illeana asks, even less subtly than it reads. Rico says he's in the middle of a divorce. Illeana says that sucks, and then smiles sunnily at him. She bends down and takes him by the arm to lead him away. "Wow," she says once she gets a handful. Because, I don't know, that suit is made of really nice material? I can't imagine what else it might be.
Brenda's patient isn't a girl with body image issues; it's a guy with rage issues. He's seriously pissed off about even being there, and he rips up the letter that says he needs to attend counseling or be suspended. As he gets up to leave, Brenda stands up as well. And what happens is kind of scary, because she's not even blocking his path to the door. In fact, he turns around and comes back so that he can shove her hard against the wall. "Bitch, don't tell me what to do," he roars. Brenda angrily pushes his hands off her shoulders, so he does it again, harder, bouncing her head on the wall. She doesn't try to prevent his exit this time. Too bad for her that he ripped up that letter, or this would probably be enough to get him suspended for sure.
Claire's at the camera store, shopping and phone-canoodling with Billy. She's also telling him about the new camera she's buying. It's a digital, and we know how they both feel about that, right? No? I guess we don't anymore. "Just think of it as a really expensive toy," Claire excuses. When she gets off the phone, though, the clerk tells her that her card is declined. Claire says it's a mistake, and asks that he run it again. He does. Same result. "What the fuck?" Claire wonders. Maybe the universe doesn't want you to go digital, Claire.
David and Keith are getting bad news from Shirley the adoption lady. David's confused: "You have our whole lives there on paper...Keith did everything he was supposed to do. His record is clean." Adoption Lady says that David's isn't: "I wish you'd been more honest with me. Would have saved us all a lot of work." They still don't get it, which means they're behind most viewers. Shirley catches them up: "You were arrested in Las Vegas on May 25th, 2001 for lewd and lascivious behavior in a public place with a male prostitute." Adoption people are so picky. Wheels turn in David's head while Keith looks guilty. "I am so disappointed," Shirley knife-twists. "I devoted weeks to your case. Did you really think you could keep it a secret?" Yeah, Shirley's the one who's disappointed. But my God, you guys, one of the first things they tell you during the adoption process is to disclose everything. So in a file somewhere at our adoption agency is my statement about a warning I got for riding my bicycle on the wrong side of the street in 1982. Better safe than sorry, I say.
Cut to the ride home in David and Keith's giant car, where we join the bitter recriminations already in progress. David is blaming Keith for failing to have the record of his arrest properly expunged, and Keith says that the Vegas cop told him it had been. "I didn't make you fuck that hooker and get busted," Keith quite rightly points out. "You fucked up and it cost us everything," David insists. Keith says that the only reason he's not screaming back is because he knows how upset David is. Which just makes David angry that Keith's not more upset. Keith says he is; he just has to drive the giant car and get them home alive while David freaks out. "Bullshit!" David screams, throwing his neatly organized portfolio to the floor of the car. "You don't care!" Keith says he does care, and that it didn't cost them everything. They've still got the giant car, for one thing. And also, "There's the surrogate. Maybe we can get things going with her." Wrong thing to say to David, Keith. His preferred method of fatherhood just went down the toilet, so now you're going to rub it in by reminding him that yours is still viable? And indeed, David remembers, "You never wanted to adopt in the first place. You know what? Fuck the surrogate. You can meet her yourself. I don't want any part of it." David breaks down into tears of rage while Keith scowls at the road.
Brenda and Jackie are outside again, but they're not eating this time. Probably because they're not walking. Brenda tells Jackie about getting bounced off the wall, and Jackie victim-blames, "You have to be more careful with these kids when you don't know their pathology." Brenda confesses that it scared the shit out of her. Jackie sympathizes. But you know what's even worse? Brenda is expected for dinner at Ruth's tonight. Jackie invites Brenda home to dinner with her family instead. Brenda gratefully accepts.
Claire's still at the camera store and back on her cell, but this time she's talking to the family lawyer and not phone-canoodling with him at all. She's trying to get some money released. "I need a new camera," she complains, leaving out the part about its being an expensive toy. The lawyer explains that she can't access the funds when she's not enrolled in college. Claire reacts to that as well as you'd expect, and the lawyer says that the Late Nate put the money into trust to pay for Claire's education, "not [to] support [her] lifestyle outside of the class." "How am I supposed to move to Europe and fucking ripen when you won't give me my money?" The lawyer says that Claire doesn't inherit free and clear until she's twenty-five, and that he and Ruth agreed that this is in Claire's best interest. "You don't even know me!" Claire screams, and hangs up, leaving the store with one last dirty look at the clerk. The clerk looks like he'll recover.
Back at the funeral director's conference in Irvine, Illeana is just finishing regaling Rico with a story that ends thusly: "And he's waving his dick at me, and I told him, 'Nothing's gonna happen till you wax your back. And your ass. And oh, yeah, get out of my hot tub, you old geezer.' Was that wrong?" Rico laughs and emphatically states that it wasn't. Illeana's tired of being subtle, and tells Rico he's goddamn hot. Rico returns the compliment, which is her cue to realize that she's too drunk to drive home to Fullerton. Which is a no-brainer, since we've already established that she's drunk enough to find Rico hot. Rico gathers his courage and invites Illeana back to his room. She thinks that's a great idea, since she wants to order room service. At which point Rico, embarrassed, has to admit that he's not staying at the hotel where the conference is being held; he's at the Irvine Center Quality Inn on the block. Illeana says that's okay, and that they'll find something. "Let's get out of here," she says, and they do. Rico lives in L.A. and he's staying at a hotel in Irvine? Kiefer could make that drive in ten minutes, dude.
George is trying to get Ruth to let him help with dinner, saying he wants to. "So you say," she says, smiling fakely, "but then you come back from the grocery empty-handed." Before that can escalate, Nate carries Maya into the house. Maya and George are sweetly thrilled to see each other as Nate makes weak excuses for Brenda's absence. Maggie arrives moments later. George introduces Nate and Maya to his daughter. "It's great to see us all together," George says, and Nate smiles agreeably. Naturally, Ruth has to put an end to the sweet moment. She shoos everyone out of the kitchen so that she can finish dinner. And also pour herself another glass of wine.
Over at Jackie's house, there's a dinner going on where nobody hates anybody else, but that's only because most of them just met Brenda. She's violating doctor-patient confidentiality by repeating the story of her assault today. Everyone sympathizes. "There is nothing more dangerous than an adolescent male," says Jackie's grinning adolescent daughter, to which Jackie's adolescent male child takes offense. "I just cook," he protests, and Brenda compliments him on the food. Jackie and her husband talk about attacks they've sustained in the line of duty, which sends the kids into promo-speak: "Our parents: therapists on the front lines." That gives Brenda an opening back into her favorite subject -- Brenda -- as she says that her parents were also therapists. Jackie's son thinks he's got her childhood all figured out: "Too many hugs, all that support and understanding?" "Not exactly," Brenda understates. When the daughter asks if Nate's a therapist too, Brenda says, "Not officially, but sort of?" "So do you guys discuss every little thing to death?" asks the son. Brenda says she tries. Oh, does she ever. Jackie starts into a funny story about the one time they had to discipline the son, and Brenda basks in the wholesome functionality of it all. As if these people won't all be at each other's throats the moment Brenda's out the door.
After dinner at Ruth's, Maggie stands in the doorway to the kitchen and watches George hold Maya in his lap and tell a nonsensical story that involves a puppet parrot or something. He's probably just vocalizing what's going on in his head in real time. Maggie goes back to the sink, where Nate's doing the dishes, and comments on Maya's attachment to George. Nate says he sometimes thinks Maya's the only thing he ever did right, and Maggie says she finds that hard to believe, which is just a polite pleasantry here and nowhere near the big moment it was made out to be in the previews. Nate says that he and Brenda are trying for another, and Maggie expresses her sympathies about the miscarriage. Nate asks about Maggie's romantic situation, like this wouldn't have come up during dinner. She says she broke up with someone just before moving to Los Angeles from Phoenix. I'm going to have to get used to months passing between episodes like this. Where I come from, we viewers have only missed about two minutes between one show and the . She was married before that, but now her job makes it easier for her to be on her own. Nate asks if she has any desire for kids, and then looks up nervously when the silence stretches out. He asks if that was too personal. Maggie says that she and her ex-husband had a son who died of leukemia. Nate fumbles an apology and gestures helplessly toward Maya in the dining room, saying, "I can't imagine." Nate asks how long ago this happened, and Maggie answers, "He was two, so, God, six years ago." Kind of a telling calculation there; sounds like she thinks of him in terms of how old he would be if he were alive. "Time doesn't help, does it?" says Nate. Maggie agrees. Nate starts to talk about "my first wife," but Maggie's already heard. She has an advantage over him, doesn't she? She knows his whole story already, but he didn't know the first thing about her until they were alone in the kitchen together. I'm sure that's somehow Ruth's fault. "So you know how it goes," she says. Except that unlike Nate, she probably didn't hate her dead family member.
Claire's back home with Billy, and he's acting seriously pissed on her behalf over the trust fund, and making her even madder than before, if such a thing is possible. Claire says she doesn't get the money until she's twenty-five. Billy says there's no difference between twenty-one and twenty-five. Oh, please. Those years are like dog years. If my twenty-five-year-old self ever met my twenty-one-year-old self, there'd be some ass-kicking. And then my thirty-five-year-old self would kick both their asses. Claire says she'll get a work visa and a translating job when they get to Europe. Billy says he doesn't care about the money; he cares about the way her family treats her like "a crippled child." "Either that or they ignore me," Claire agrees. "They always have." Billy tells her to confront Ruth. "My father would be so pissed," she says, and Billy pulls her into a comforting hug. She's probably right about Late Nate, but not for the reason she's thinking. I'm just glad that there's one scene in this episode where Billy's fully dressed.
Rico and Illeana are currently exploring the dining options available at the Irvine Center Quality Inn. To wit: the vending machine. "Oh, look, they've got Funyuns!" Illeana rejoices. Man, Funyuns are never not funny. In fact, if you rearrange the letters in "Funyuns" you get "funny us," which is probably a sly commentary on Illeana and Rico. See what I mean about the layers?
Keith and David have gone to bed mad, like couples are never supposed to do. Trash and I never go to bed mad. We slept standing up once, though. David's apologizing to Keith for overreacting earlier. Keith's slow to accept. "Why do you act like we're on different sides?" he asks. "Because I'm an idiot," David says. Keith says it's not a competition. "No matter how we get a child, we both win." David says they'll go to the surrogate together. Keith says that when David apologizes, he's "one sexy motherfucker." David starts apologizing flirtatiously and kissing Keith, and then he heads down toward the foot of the bed. Huh, what's up with that? Is he fixing the hospital corners or something? Hey, David, where're you going? I think Keith wants to fool around. Come back!
Illeana's fucking Rico with her bra on. He flips her from the top to the bottom in mid-thrust. "Oh, my God, you're the cutest goddamn little fucker!" she hollers. Short scene, but not short enough.
Ruth and George are on the sofa after everyone's gone home. They agree that it was a pleasant evening. George comments that it was nice to see Ruth smile. "I try to smile often," Ruth says. "It's not something you can do on command." She takes up her knitting, and George asks her not to. "You pick those things up, you're a million miles away." Ruth humorlessly says that she's six inches to his right. George surveys the gap. "Eighteen inches," he insists, and slides closer. Ruth says they don't have to be attached at the hip. "I want a strong, close family too," he says. "We can still do it, can't we?" Ruth says she doesn't know: "If you would give me a moment's peace." George takes the hint and stands up to leave the room, defeated. Ruth looks up after him, but doesn't follow or call him back. Enjoy that moment's peace, Ruth.
Fade to white/Overnight. Now it's stuck in your head, isn't it?
Pan up on Rico, tangled in the luxurious sheets of the Irvine Center Quality Inn, which are made marginally less luxurious by the fact that Illeana's sitting in a chair in her underwear and waking him up by tossing Fritos at his head. "Breakfast in bed," she cracks. Rico pops one in his mouth. "Mmm, good," he says. Now Illeana's free to jump up and crawl back on top of him, saying, "This way we'll both be farting." Ooh, seductive.
Nate's getting ready to go to work for the day, and Brenda has a big favor to ask: "Come home for dinner." She says she's going to cook. He says he'll try, but that if he's late, the girls should grab something and he'll eat at Ruth's. Brenda says they'll wait for him. Nate: "Is this some big occasion I forgot about?" Brenda says she just wants them all to have dinner together. "I'll do my best," Nate promises, and kisses Brenda goodbye. He's even nice enough not to ask her to make something besides gray lettuce.
George is in pensive mode on the sofa with his elbow on his lap and one thumb-knuckle in his mouth. Ruth barely spares him a glance as she goes by with a basket of laundry. When she gets to the machine, she finds something odd in a pair of his pants: the remains of a cheese sandwich and an apple core. The show does one of its rare music cues as Ruth investigates further and finds some gray-green lumps in a sweater pocket. Out in the living room, George is still sitting there and looking like he's trying to calculate pi in is head. He flashes back to fifty-one years and two days ago -- or maybe fifty-one years to the day, which would be quite a bit worse -- and we see Little George trying to wake up his mom but succeeding only in dumping her lifeless body out of its chair and onto the kitchen floor. I think it would be funny if Mom's rigor-mortised hand dragged Little George down out of the frame, but they're probably not going for funny here. He snaps out of it when he realizes Ruth is standing there holding old food in each hand. "Why are they in your pockets?" she asks him. "I...wasn't hungry," he stutters. "I didn't want to hurt your feelings." "So you hid the food in your clothes?" Ruth asks, confused. George says he was saving it for later. Ruth looks sad, and George apologizes. "It's all right," Ruth says, "but I don't want you to wear rotting food." Jeez, bossy much? "Do I need to check the closets?" George says he'll do it, and Ruth agrees. "I'm very sorry," George reiterates sincerely. Ruth says it's nothing, because she can't not be passive-aggressive even when she's being apologized to. And she takes George's four-day old lunch and two-day-old dinner into the kitchen and flushes them down the garbage disposal. She bends over and rests her head on the counter. Aw, poor Ruth.
Clothes and blankets are scattered all over Rico's hotel room at the Irvine Center Quality Inn as he and Illeana swap divorce stories. Illeana is saying it's great that Rico and Vanessa still talk. Rico asks what happened with Illeana's divorce. She says, "It was like the relationship got cancer...and now we're both dead to each other." Poetic. My question is, why is Illeana wearing a bra when there's one on the floor? Is there another layer to Rico that we don't know about? He offers to "keep this going," but she says she has a boyfriend: "He's not that great or anything, but I don't know if I'm ready to dump him yet." How flattering to Rico, really. And Rico's still married anyway, as she points out. He says he hopes she finds someone special. Illeana: "I'm here at the Irvine Center Quality Inn. And I just had my brains screwed loose by a guy who can make a mutilated corpse look like a fucking movie star. So don't you be feeling sorry for me, okay?" Well I was, but not for that reason.
David and Keith are meeting with their potential surrogate, a cheery blonde who raided Bree Van de Kamp's wardrobe for the occasion. She jokes about her non-child-bearing hips, and they awkwardly say they're not worried about those. She brags about how good she is at having babies. She's had one on her own and one for a couple in New Mexico. David asks why she decided to become a surrogate. She says it's not for the money, because her husband "makes an excellent living in computers." A lot of money in computers, I've heard. David says that carrying a child for someone else can't be easy. She explains, "A pregnant woman is the most beautiful woman in the world. Everybody talks to her, everybody wants to touch her. It's like having a magical power that makes people happy." ["This is where, if I were Keith or David, I might hear alarm bells. Potential Munchausen Syndrome!" -- Wing Chun] David asks how she "gave away" the baby in New Mexico. "She never belonged to me," she explains. Keith asks if she doesn't have a problem with the parents being two gay men. "I love gay men!" she exclaims. "You two seem so good together. I would love to have a baby for you." David and Keith smile at each other happily. Don't tell her about the hooker in Vegas, guys.
Looks like Claire took Billy's advice about confronting Ruth. Claire tries to get Ruth to quit cleaning her house for a minute and talk to her, but Ruth busily insists that it's not the time and that there's nothing to say. "Don't you think it's significant that every time I make a decision for myself, you hate me?" Claire pushes. "I don't hate you, I hate your choices," Ruth says, still refusing to look at Claire until her daughter yells at her to do so. "I am an adult," Claire says. "My choices are none of your business. You had no right to call that lawyer. Dad loved me. He wanted me to be happy. That's why he left me the money." Ruth: "He did not intend to finance you while you...play house with a crazy person." "Look who's talking," Claire spits back. Ruth says that Late Nate wanted Claire to go to college. "I'm learning from life," Claire says, then turns it around again: "You don't even know what college is! You never went. That was your choice. And now you hate yourself for it, so now you're gonna take it out on me?" Ruth yells that that isn't true. "Then stop being such a controlling bitch and give me my money!" Claire hollers. Ruth raises her hand to smack Claire again, but Claire raises her own. "I will hit you back this time," she threatens. Ruth backs off. "Billy and I are moving to Ssspain," Claire hisses, "And you can't ssstop us." "Get out of my house!" Ruth screams. Claire obeys, for once.
Brenda has succeeded in creating her little scene of domestic dinnertime bliss, with her, Nate, and Maya gathered around the dining-room table for "chicken and vegetable sauté over herbed polenta triangles." ["Uch, polenta. I'd rather have a GardenBurger from under the seat in the car." -- Wing Chun] Brenda tries to make small talk, but for whatever reason she's all awkward and desperate about it. She finally reveals her agenda: "We should do this more often." Nate heartily agrees. Brenda adds, "I just want to have dinner like a family. Like a real family." Nate drops his fork and glares at her. "Quit trying to be some fucking hausfrau, all right? You're a rebel, you're a freak. We're never going to be a real family, no matter what you sauté!" he yells at her. Brenda looks at him in horror, even though that was just a little fantasy she just had, and in real life Nate's mildly saying, "Well, we are a real family." Brenda says that she just wants them to connect. Nate assures her that he and Maya are enjoying themselves, and the child agrees happily. He shrugs at her like, "What's the problem?" The problem, Nate, is that Brenda doesn't have a problem, and that's the one thing she can't stand. Most people would probably still be freaked out about being assaulted at work, but not Brenda. What's bothering her is that she saw what she sees as some kind of ideal family unit, and got all bunchy that hers isn't exactly like it, and now she's going to try and force her own domestic situation into some mold she had in her head, without telling anyone that that's what she's doing because she probably doesn't fully realize it herself. Which is only going to lead to Nate's (and, to a lesser extent, Maya's) getting all confused and then resistant and then outright resentful, and then she'll blame Nate, and their relationship will start coming apart again, and dear God it hasn't even happened yet and I'm bored already. I swear, Brenda's only happy when she's making herself miserable. I figure the only reason she wants to be a therapist in the first place is so she can learn all sorts of interesting new ways to do that. Shrink, heal thyself.
It looks like Christmas morning over at Claire and Billy's house. The place is full of brand-new expensive crap that looks like it came from the Sharper Image, and which they won't be able to take on the plane, and even if they could they'd have to ship over a separate box for all the electrical adapters that they'll need in Europe. But Claire only has eyes for her new digital camera, which she says is better than the one she had her eye on. She yells at Billy in the other room that they're going to share, and he yells back that he got one for himself too. Claire giggles at his extravagance: "Did you go to Beverly Hills and have, like, a shopping seizure? What are you going to do with this antique microscope?" Billy says they'll look through it and get ideas. And then he comes out of the other room, shirtless except for a pair of leather pants. He dances in them for Claire. "You are such a fucking rock star!" she laughs, and joins him for a manic dance in the kitchen. Why did Billy bother to flush his meds? Obviously Claire isn't keeping a very close eye on his intake, or she'd probably be a little more worried right now.
And because Ruth just doesn't get enough of funerals in her everyday life, she's watching an old movie that ends with one. We get a clear look at the movie's executive producers when they pop up on the screen, and you know damn well I IMDbed them. One of them has produced many bad TV movies, but the most significant credit he shares with the other one is Living in Oblivion, which I've never seen but I'm 99% certain isn't what they just got done watching. Perhaps it's the title that's relevant. Ruth says, "That was lovely." "A little too sad for me," says Maggie, whom I have yet to see in any color other than blue. "But very true to life," comments George. Okay, forget what I said earlier about the layers. Ruth shuts off the TV and says she'll go take a bath so that father and daughter can have some quality time. "Does everyone have everything they need?" she asks tiredly. "Yes, dear, thank you." George lies sadly. "Goodbye. I mean, goodnight," says Ruth, and heads upstairs. Oh, so fraught with meaning. Once she's gone, George presses his hand to his forehead in anguish. Maggie asks what's wrong, and she's about to go get Ruth before he stops her. "I'm having more symptoms," he confesses. He wants Maggie to bring him in for another shock treatment, but not to tell Ruth. Maggie says, "She's your wife, she wants to know." "No, she doesn't," George says sadly, and repeats his request. He makes his plea: "I love her. If I lose her, I'm finished. Please. I want to keep her." He doesn't explain why that is, but Maggie reluctantly agrees. And then she sits there and helps him hold his brain in. I think it's a little late for that, Mags.